


Overwhelming Silence

by Silver_Flair



Series: Creative Writing [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Creative writing class, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Past Tense, Prompt Fill, Short Story, Teen Writing, Therapy, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Writing, Writing Exercise, Writing therapy, personal, therapeutic writing, who are you?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:43:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Flair/pseuds/Silver_Flair
Summary: I wrote this for my Creative Writing class, here is the prompt:From your experiance, write a story that defines you - Who are you? (300-400 words)This is a 340 word, short story that details how I felt growing up in a neglectful (abusive) household, I hope you read, and enjoy.Any constructive criticism is appreciated, thank you for taking your time to read and write a review.





	Overwhelming Silence

Overwhelming Silence

 

The quiet was jarring, in comparison to the laughter of so many people, it seemed almost deafening in comparison. Right now, they were all asleep, the constant partying tiring them out, they needed to rest, so they could start again when they awoke.  
I couldn’t go outside though, the living room filled to the brim with unknown people, I didn’t want to see them, and all the trash scattered across the floor, taking the food my brother and I so desperately needed.  
I was hungry, a feeling I knew all to well, yet, without a hint of courage, I stayed hidden within my room. A distraction was needed, until evening came, and the guests stirred. So, with a cautious glance to the door, I dug into the plastic tub, wincing with every noise, and pulled out a notebook, and a pencil.  
With a  _ crinkle _ of paper, and a  _ scratch  _ of a pencil. I drowned out the silence. Fantasy-one’s own imagination-is a much kinder, and forgiving place than reality.  
   You could create new worlds, fix problems long thought unsolvable, and construct a character with everything you wish you could have; everything you wish you could be.

Writing was beautiful, wonderful, and magical, yet even it could not disguise the truth. I was a burden, that much I clearly knew. A child stopping them from going out, and doing whatever it was they wanted to do.  
I knew, I couldn’t do anything, this life that I had was out of my control. However, that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t help. Soon, I would be out of here, this toxic place, living with someone who truly cared; someone who could break the silence, someone who could love me unconditionally.

For now, I would depend upon others, and when I grew up, I would take care of myself, but I had to be patient. I had to stay within my imagination-my made-up fantasies-and wait for the time to come, and when it did, then the past could no longer hold me back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Validation will be updated within the next week, I have been extremely ill, and unable to type the chapter, I apologize.


End file.
